Memory Six
MEMORY SIX
GRANT
I hadn’t woken up with a woman in my arms for years, my bed usually empty, unless I was at home with the children and one of them found their way there.
Marie was nuzzled into my chest, seemingly asleep, her hair tangled over my chest, her body curled around mine. This was the fourth day we’d slept over with each other, this time at her apartment after she’d found out from one of her colleagues that my dad had been joking about me getting lucky in New York. So far, no one had clocked on to us sleeping with each other. We’d managed to keep it professional when there was anyone to see, but as soon as there wasn’t it was a different matter.
There was no talking about work; instead I spoke about the kids and Rachael’s death and she told me about her siblings and parents and the million cousins back in Ireland. We talked about our futures, the firms we’d one day own and manage and what would happen to their futures and we talked about houses and where we wanted to live, how we wanted it to be.
She wanted children one day, a husband and her own family. She wanted Irish summers and mid-winter breaks on a beach somewhere in the Indian Ocean. I wanted stability, more laughter, more of a life and if that included holidays away I was game for it. We walked around the city, saw some of the sights, although the only sight I was bothered about seeing was her.
It was an indulgence because in a few days we’d go our separate ways. I’d need to find another nanny and take some time off work to look after my brood. Marie would be moving on to her dates and nights out with her friends.
I didn’t like the idea of her going out on dates but I wasn’t allowed to feel like that.
“I can hear you thinking.” She lifted her head, looking at me with big eyes. “What’s going on in that head?”
“I think I’m going to do something you suggested.”
“Make a mould of your penis for me so I can have a sex toy made?”
We both laughed, relaxing back down in the bed.
“Surprisingly, no. I had my secretary fax me information on some houses for sale in London. I think you’re right – bringing the kids to the city would be good for all of us.” When I hadn’t been thinking about her, or being with her, I’d been working out what to do. “I can have a nanny and an au pair. I can get home after work and spend time with them, and start work again in the evenings.”
“And maybe you could squeeze a life in there too. Dating, maybe.” Her smile was soft but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Baby steps. Want to see some of the houses?” We weren’t in court until ten, so the morning could be relatively lazy. Neither of us were the lead on the case or anywhere near it, both of our father’s holding that mantle. It was experience for both of us, really.
She sat up, holding the quilt to her chest.
“No need to keep them hidden on my behalf.” I nodded at her tits.
“You’ll get distracted and I want to see the houses.”
She had a point. I got out of bed, knowing it was her eyes on me now. I tried not to preen while standing there naked, rooting through my briefcase for the papers.
“Here.” I passed them to her, then crawled over her to get back into bed. “They’re all within walking distance to the Callaghan offices in Borough Market.”
She studied the first couple. “That’s a good one. Loads of space – there’s a room on the second floor that could be a playroom.” She pointed out some of the features. “Have you looked at schools nearby?”
“No. There are a ton of private schools nearby so I’ll find the right house first and then look. Worst case scenario, I can hire tutors for Max, Jackson and Claire until I can get them in the right school. They’ll want to be in the same one.” I watched her as she carried on looking at the properties Julie had found, her expression studious.
She was an impressive solicitor. Organised, detailed, technical. I’d found it difficult to negotiate with her, her attention to detail meaning her arguments were always founded.
“I think you’re doing the right thing.” She piled the papers together, although I wasn’t watching those.
The cover had slipped away from her body, giving me the best view in the country. I leaned down and kissed her nipple.
“You’re incorrigible!” She rolled the papers up and smacked me with them. “We should set some boundaries.”
“You just hit me.” I gave her my sternest look, the one I reserved for when I needed to pretend I was angry, even if I wasn’t.
Marie’s chin tipped up. “You kissed my - ”
“You still shouldn’t have hit me.” I caught her wrists, kissing each one before straddling over her, kicking the covers away. Then I pinned her wrists down on the pillow with one hand, bracing myself on my knees above her. “And these tits are mine right now.”
“But you’re in my home. And they’re attached to my body.” She squirmed, her cheeks flushing and her nipples hardening.
I took one in my mouth and sucked gently, slowly, hearing her breathing change. “Want me to stop?”
“Not really.”
“Who owns these tits then?” I licked her nipple quickly, teasing.
“Me.”
“I’d better leave them alone then.” I sat up a little higher.
“I’ll let you borrow them.”
“I don’t do borrowing. They’re either mine or not.” I lowered my head again and blew on the hard peak. I was seriously obsessed with her tits.
“They can be yours for the moment.”
“Not good enough.”
She wriggled her wrists under my hand.
“You’re being a brat.”
“You’re being mean. I need you to touch me.”
The breath left my lungs. No one had said that to me before. No one had wanted me like this, even my wife.
“Promise to keep your hands still?” I started to remove my hand.
“What do I get if I do?”
I shook my head. “My cock in your pussy and I’ll let you come on it. If you’re good and don’t touch.”
“I won’t touch.”
“Good.”
I started on her breasts, sucking and licking teasing them into hard tips, my hands on her hips, fingers trailing over the skin there, performing more torture at the same time.
Her hips wriggled, hinting for more. She’d get that when I gave in, which wouldn’t take too long. My cock was hard and aching, my balls already tight and I wasn’t a masochist – most of the time.
I ran a finger over her clit and down to her entrance, pleased at the wetness I found there. A gasp came from her, my name with a plea. Slowly, carefully, I pushed a finger inside her, managing to hold my shit together.
Her hair was spread over the sheets, her eyes huge and big, lips parted and face flushed. She looked like an image from my favourite fantasy.
I moved my finger out, listening for her complaint which came quickly.
“Patience,” I said, inserting a second finger this time, finding the spot that I knew made her lose her mind.
I kept the same slow rhythm with my hand, sucking again on her sweet tits, ignoring the urge to push my cock into her and fuck her until the bed broke, telling her that was what I was going to do.
She was on the edge when I removed my hand completely, her whimper loud and desperate.
“Turn over, arse in the air.”
Surprisingly, she did just that, pulling the pillow down to rest her head on it. The sight was heady, her peachy backside there for me, full tits there for me to see and her mouth open and gasping.
I slapped her arse cheek, hearing her gasp and then groan.
“Please fuck me, Grant.” It sounded like music.
“I’m going to.” Another tap to the other cheek, and then I lined my cock up with her entrance and pushed home, my hands holding her hips, moving her onto my cock.
It was fast and hard and messy, her orgasm inducing mine, which drained all the breath from everywhere else in my body, the world spinning in the best way possible.
I collapsed on top of her, managing to spill my weight to the side, questioning whether I’d actually gone to heaven.
“I think you’ve broken me.” Her words were drowsy. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up in court. Can you tell my father you’ve fucked me to death so I won’t be in work today? I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”
“I think he’d hire a hitman by lunch if I told him that.” I held her closer to me, kissing her neck.
It was then it hit me.
I wanted to tell her I loved her.
It had been four days of amazing sex and spending all our time that we could together and I thought I was in love with her. It felt nothing like it had with Rachael and for a second I felt a stab of guilt.
But this couldn’t be love, could it? I’d known her for days, the sex was amazing. I was sex-drunk, intoxicated on orgasms, stoned with fucking the woman who might be perfect for me.
I wasn’t in love.
Was I?
I held her a little tighter because I realised then that I might be.
Someone, somewhere, had thought it was a good idea for the teams on both sides of the case to endure a meal together at a swanky restaurant in part of New York City I hadn’t visited yet. The entourage included both my father and Marie’s, which wasn’t sitting well for a comfortable evening.
I’d be eating steak opposite a man whose daughter I’d been eating out for breakfast, dinner, and on one occasion, lunch.
I had a vision of the future where Claire, my daughter, brought a boyfriend home for dinner and I had to sit opposite him, knowing he was spending time with her. Alone.
If I was Marie’s dad, I’d want to hang me up on a post by my balls then drench me in poisonous spiders. If I was Marie’s dad, I wouldn’t want her anywhere near a recently widowed single dad with four tearaway children, no matter how wealthy he was.
I was not a good prospect.
Marie was beautiful and intelligent and was full of that spark which lit up every room she was in. She’d captivated me and would captivate other men, other men with more to offer than I had.
I didn’t resent my children. They had come too soon, unplanned but loved, even if I wasn’t too sure how to show that I loved them – certainly not how I was behaving right now which was with avoidance.
I hated not knowing how to do something.
“Seems odd having dinner with the opposition, doesn’t it?” My father surveyed me via mirror, straightening his bow tie.
We were tuxedoed up, trussed up in our finest for a meal that would probably leave half the party with indigestion and an uncomfortable night’s sleep. I’d had to rush back to the hotel after spending the day with Marie in Central Park, having bought a camera and using up film so I could take photos to show Max and Jackson who’d both had a million questions yesterday when I spoke to them. It’d been easier being in a city that they were interested in and I wondered whether bringing them here at Christmas would be a good idea.
Maybe they could meet Marie.
“You look better, son.” My dad paused and frowned through the mirror. “Best I’ve seen you since Rachael died.”
“I think the change of scenery’s done me good.”
He gave a nod. “Any thought to moving here?”
“It had crossed my mind but I think it’d be too much for the kids.” As much as I thought the idea of moving to London for term time was a good one, the eldest three loved their home in Oxford, and I wanted them to grow up in England. They had friends there, and family, and a move overseas would take them away from so much, even if it meant I’d be closer to the one thing in America that I wanted.
My dad nodded again, redoing his tie. “You got the nanny situation sorted out?”
“No. I’m going to need to take some leave when I get back. Maybe three months or so. I need to spend some time with them, Dad.” Which I should’ve done when Rachael died.
“What about your case load?”
It was less challenge than I’d expected. “I can reallocate it. The mediation was the biggest issue and I can keep a check on that via the phone. I know it’s not ideal, but I have a solution that’ll be for the best in the long run, it’ll just take a few months to put it in place.”
“What’s the solution?”
“I’m going to buy a family house in London. Near to Borough. The kids can go to school in the city and it’ll be easier for childcare. We can go back to Oxfordshire for the weekends and school holidays.” My father knew that once my mind was made up, it was unmoveable.
“No boarding school? Maxwell’s more than old enough.”
“No. They’ve been through too much. I can’t separate them either. I haven’t been a great dad so far and I need to put that right.”
I expected more come back than the slow nod he gave, his tie now perfect.
“Do you want some money from your trust for the house? I’d rather you bought well and you come into the money in five years anyway. Bricks and mortar are the best place for any long term investment, as you know.”
I’d been schooled on how to invest since I was ten and my dad spent a Sunday afternoon with me and a ten-pound note, going through possible investments and a scenario where I could see my money work for itself.
It’d paid off. I’d had trust funds that matured at various ages and I hadn’t blown through what I got. The house in Oxfordshire was bought with my funds and Rachael’s trust, but the rest had been re-invested over and over.
Money worries were ones I didn’t have. Everything else was fair game.
“I don’t need to draw down. I have cash. No mortgage needed.”
He looked at me with an expression that was a mix of pride and curiosity. “Very well. Take the time off. I was surprised you didn’t have more time away after Rachael’s death, to be honest. Your mother was worried about you.”
Not him. My father rarely showed emotion other than pride and happiness. Men didn’t feel sad in his world, we were too stoic for that.
“She probably had reason to be.” I wasn’t going to allay that fear. “Is there a reason I should know about this dinner tonight?”
“Old friends. Old rivals. I’ve known Joseph Green since we were both in short trousers and couldn’t wipe our own arses and it’s not often we come up against them so why not celebrate it. Don’t worry – we’re not thinking of merging the companies.” He gave me a grin that made him look like an older version of me.
“You’ve considered that then?”
He shook his head. “Only when we’ve had too many whiskies and we’re watching sunrise at some stupid time in the morning. Nothing serious, so don’t worry – you won’t need to share your inheritance with the Green kids.”
“Marie Green’s pretty talented.” I put a toe in the water. “She was excellent in the mediation.”
“I heard she was good. When Claire’s older, you should introduce her to Marie. She’d be a good role model and Claire’s already got the makings of a good solicitor.” He chuckled fondly, probably thinking of the last time he’d seen his granddaughter and she’d had more questions than he could answer.
My father was a much better granddad than he’d been a dad. He and my mother had helped out with the kids when they could, with my mother stepping in next week when my aunt had to go back home for some appointments.
“I think it’s too early to say what job Claire’s going to have. I’ve got to keep her alive for a few more years yet.” Which was a challenge in itself. Yesterday she’d gone missing, only to be found up a tree by Maxwell. She couldn’t get down, so my eldest had taken it upon himself to fix the situation by sourcing a ladder, carried by him and Jackson, and Claire had climbed down that.
I’d asked my aunt why Claire had managed to go missing for so long and the response hadn’t been helpful. Callum was a handful and looking after him was a full-time job, I’d been told. She couldn’t be responsible for the other three if she was having to look after Callum, because the other three were usually on the other side of a field or in a stream or up trees.
Case in point.
“She’s a wild one.” My dad seemed happy with that. “Anyway, we need to go. Car’s waiting outside.”
The restaurant was ridiculously swanky and totally different to where Marie and I had been eating for the last few days. We’d been grabbing falafel from stalls or eating in small Italian restaurants where the lighting was dim and no one was listening. We hadn’t bothered with the high-end places, keeping it casual in all senses.
I followed the host to the bar where champagne fizzed over the sides of glasses, the popping of another bottle the soundtrack. Nerves clogged my veins, the champagne doing little to erase them, although I didn’t know why.
Maybe it was because I was telling myself I was in love with Marie when I knew that couldn’t be true. I was in lust and I liked her a lot.
More than liked her.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw her. I was used to seeing her in suits and jeans, or naked most of the time, not like this.
Her hair was piled up on top of her head, cascading down her back in styled curls, a back that was bare, her dress cut down to the waist, the front of it high necked lace. It was a deep navy blue silk and it made her look like a movie star rather than an Irish girl who missed the wild tides and fierce seas of Ballybunion.
She tipped her chin as she caught my eye, a soft knowing smile crossing her face because she probably knew the effect she was having on me right now.
“Miss Green.” My father greeted her first. “You look wonderful. Grant was telling me how amazing you were in the mediation as well.”
I gave my dad a shiny star for complimenting her on her work and not just how she looked.
She teetered on high heels as she moved towards us, a glass of champagne already in her hand.
“Thank you.” She leaned in for a kiss from my father. “Your son’s not too shabby either.”
Then it was my turn for a kiss. I didn’t try to help it, placing my hand on the swell of her hip and letting it linger there for a moment longer than I should.
Her eyes glittered. I’d hear about that later.
“It’s good to see the next generation of solicitors coming into their own. Soon it’ll be the two of you leading on cases like Barnett versus Kush.” He nodded at Marie. “Your father must be very proud with how you’re doing.”
“I think so. Although it’s not something he says often.”
I knew that was a sore point. Marie liked praise – in many different situations. She’d told me a couple of times that sometimes she just wanted her father to tell her well done.
I needed to tell my kids that more.
“He should.”
She nodded, not moving. “Maybe you should say it to your son too. I don’t think you realise how brilliant he is.”
My dad’s focus landed back on me, his expression solemn. A nod, of course, because that was his sole language. “I’m aware of how talented he is.”
I shot a look at Marie, asking her to leave it. I knew that as okay as he’d been with me asking for leave, he wouldn’t be happy about it. In his eyes, business came first, above everything. That was why boarding schools existed along with nannies and tutors.
“Good.” She took a step closer to me, close enough so our hands brushed. This wasn’t her being discreet. “It’s been really good to work alongside him.”
“Excellent.” He looked towards Marie’s father who was trying to catch his attention. “I’ll let you two young people talk about whatever young people discuss. Make the most of tonight.” He sailed off, apparently oblivious to anything but the bottle of whisky Marie’s dad had hold of, which didn’t surprise me.
I knew there were talks about buying shares in an Irish distillery, which would solidify exactly what my father would become behind the pretence of a whisky connoisseur.
“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” Marie turned around so her back was to the other men. “It’s just annoying to see how he doesn’t appreciate you.”
It was the first time anyone had ever defended me, possibly ever. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t pay any attention to it and it might soften the fact I’ve just asked for three months leave.” I couldn’t resist touching her, even if it was her shoulder. “You look fucking beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you. It was why I had to head back in a hurry. I’d booked someone to come and do this. It’s not something I could do on my own. If Bernie was here, she’d have put me together.” She tentatively touched her hair. “You might have to get these pins out before anything else happens later.”
“Oh. It’s like that, is it? Presumptuous.”
Her eyelids narrowed. “I can always find someone else to take them out.”
Looking like that she could have anyone.
But it wasn’t happening.
“Try that and see who ends up in hospital.”
“Fighting talk, Callaghan. Fighting talk.” She took another sip of her champagne. “They’re going to figure out we’ve been spending time together. There’s no way they won’t guess – not with the way you’re looking at me.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Totally. But that’s okay. I think.” She glanced over at her dad. “He might skin you.”
“That’s what I’m concerned about. And this ends next week, doesn’t it?” I wanted her to tell me that it didn’t. I wanted some indication that it had more mileage than just a few more days.
“You go back home, so it has to.” She looked away from me. “But they’d expect us to be friends. We have a lot in common.”
“We do. Not that we talk about it.”
Her smile was bright. “Somehow we manage not to talk about work. I don’t think that’ll happen tonight though. Come on, we should be sociable.” She led me over to the rest of our teams, champagne and whisky flowing as freely as the Thames.
We managed to sit next to each other at the table, some small relief while tiny portions of food were dished out and shop talk continued. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss cases, clients or industry gossip. There was something about how two of the old firms were merging, or had been, until something untoward had been revealed, as well as gossip about an affair that a partner had been having that’d caused some scandal.
I was quiet, probably unusually so, and Marie had noticed.
Her hand found its way under the table to my leg, resting on my thigh between courses.
“Are you okay?” She turned to me, speaking as if she was discussing the case.
I nodded, blown away once more with just how beautiful she was. “Just in a pickle, I suppose.”
No one was listening to us, caught up in other more interesting affairs.
“Why?” It was one word, but she said it at the same time as pressing her fingers into my thigh. “You’re in New York, all you have to do tomorrow is enjoy yourself and recover from this food. The world’s your oyster right now.”
“My world’s at home in Oxford, running wild. I feel guilty. I want to go home to them, but I don’t want to leave you.” There it was. I’d said it, kind of.
“Oh.” She frowned but she didn’t take her hand away.
My world shrunk at that point; it could be as big as I wanted, endless opportunities, but the only ones I wanted were her and my kids to be settled and happy.
I didn’t know how I could have both or even if she could be part of it.
“I don’t want you to go either. Not before you make a cast of your penis.”
“Which isn’t going to happen.” I wasn’t sure how serious she was about this. I thought I’d caught her taking measurements yesterday morning.
“Then you can’t go home.” She shook her head. “You’ve ruined me for any other penis.”
“My life’s work is complete.” Maybe it was just about the sex for her. Maybe I should just be making the most of that for the next few days.
Marie laughed, causing her dad to look over at us. I stiffened, not wanting to give anything away, for her sake as well as my balls if he worked it out.
“I have been working out how I could make a cast of it.”
Her words were too loud, her dad now definitely interested.
“Cast of what, Marie?” Joseph leaned over the table towards us. “What mad idea are you coming up with now?”
“A whisky bottle we saw in a bar the other night. We’re talking about that distillery.” It was only confidence that made her sound convincing, but I was impressed with the speed of her response.
Joseph stared at her for an extra second. “Sounds intriguing. Which bar was it?”
She explained where it was then swiftly moved the subject on to the distillery which seemed to be becoming more of a plan than an idea. All the while, her hand creeped up my leg, fingers pressing into my skin giving me a taste of glorious torture.
Her dad carried on talking, asking me about London and where I took clients. His daughter carried on her devious ministrations, her fingers becoming perilously close to where my cock was becoming increasingly hard.
Finally, eventually, one of the other Green partners took his attention and Marie leaned over to me, turning her head to conceal her words.
“There’s a bathroom on this floor. Go in there and I’ll knock on the door in a few minutes. I’ll tap three times so you know it’s me.” She pulled back her hand and I breathed a little easier.
“This is risky.”
“I know. But why not?” Her eyes were full of mischief.
“They’ll wonder where we both are.”
“They won’t even notice. Your dad’s just ordered more champagne – I think they’re trying to out champagne each other. They won’t realise the kids are gone.” The mischief was replaced with sheer innocence.
The thought of leaving the table, even though most people were up on their feet now and mingling through the private room where we’d been seated, felt wrong, as if I was about to shy away from work.
I had an idea – a hope – of what Marie had planned and it wasn’t something I’d done before. Risky. I didn’t always take risks that I hadn’t completely mitigated for.
But there was no way my cock was going to deflate any time soon.
I looked through the open door to the corridor down which was the bathroom. It was hidden away, the main bathrooms on the next floor. We were unlikely to be disturbed.
Even so.
“It’s risky.”
She shrugged. “Live a little.”
“You won’t leave me in their all night?”
Her face lit up. “Tempting, but no. Go.”
She waited until I’d left the table, me hoping to fuck that no one looked at my crotch and saw what state I was in. I caught site of her standing up and heading to her father, stealing the attention for a moment, which she did easily.
The bathroom was empty and big, plenty of space for at least two people. There was a full-length mirror, the reflection showing a man who looked hungry. The tiredness that’d haunted me for the last few months had gone, and there was something in my eyes that had been lacking since long before Rachael had died.
A knock sounded three times at the door. I opened it quickly, relieved when I saw Marie there. She pushed her way in at speed, pressing a finger to my lips.
“We need to be quick and quiet.”
My hands took hold of her hips, touching her like I’d wanted to do for the last few hours, the silk under my fingers feeling delicate and soft and very in the way.
“No, this one’s on me. I’ll wait till later.” She backed me against the wall so I was still facing the mirror and stole my mouth with hers with a kiss that was all whisky and cream.
A hand on my chest kept me still and she dropped to her knees, her other hand fussing with my belt. I knew exactly what she was going to do and I wasn’t sure how long it would last. The sight of her kneeling down in front of me, eyes bright and shining, looking up at me while she took my cock out of my suit trousers and licked around the head like it was an ice-pop would be forever imprinted in my memory.
I wanted to thread my fingers through her hair, pull on it so she moved her mouth in the most effective way possible, but I didn’t dare mess up her hair and I was beyond coherent thought anyway.
She took my cock as deep as she could, her eyes staying on me, sucking and moving her hand, her other hand cupping my balls. Through the mirror I saw how we looked; debauched, wrecked, hot. I looked like a man who’d been possessed by Bacchus, my hands on the shoulders of the woman performing magic.
“I’m going to come.” I managed to moan a warning, not sure if Marie wanted an extra course.
She shook her head, her mouth still tight round my cock. I pulse, groaning, fingers tightening on her shoulders as I came down her throat, the world turning upside down and my legs feeling as if they were about to give way.
“You’re fucking amazing.” I love you.
She pulled her mouth away and gave me a smile, “All part of the New York experience.” Her giggle started quietly as she stood up, nimble hands tucking away my cock and zipping my fly. “Your cock is full of lipstick.”
“As long as it’s yours.” I love you.
“I’ll soap it off later. I have a huge hot tub in my suite.”
I’ll build a hot tub in my garden if you come home with me forever. “Any neighbours?”
“Different floor to everyone.” She kissed the side of my face. “You might not like how I taste.”
I begged to differ, catching her chin and guided her mouth to mine. I didn’t mind how she tasted, especially because she tasted of me.
“I’m dying to fuck you against this wall.”
She shook her head. “You’ll rip my dress and I really like it.”
“So do I, but I like you out of it better.” And I love you.
“Getting me naked’s your lifetime goal, isn’t it?”
It was enough to make me freeze. “I love all versions I’ve seen of you so far. In my bed, in court, at work, in a lift, in restaurants and parks and bars. With clothes and without them. I’d be good with the you with flu and a runny nose that was all red and crusty.”
“And when I’m on my knees. Just like you got on your knees for me.” She kissed me again, slower this time, sweeter. “We should head back out.”
“Why don’t we just tell them?”
Her laugh filled the room. “That I just gave you oral sex?”
“That we’ve been on dates.”
There was an obvious assessment being done as she regarded me. “This can’t go anywhere, Grant.”
I felt my heart break.
“Okay.”
I left the bathroom first, heading over to one of the Callaghan lawyers to talk about sport. Marie followed a few minutes later, not catching my eye or looking in my direction.
I just had to find the gold she’d painted and remember that. I looked at her, smiling and laughing, champagne flute in hand. She was stunning and clever and everything.
I still love you.